


Different

by celluloidbroomcloset



Category: The Avengers (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-19 23:41:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9465803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celluloidbroomcloset/pseuds/celluloidbroomcloset
Summary: Steed realizes that Tara is very different from his previous partners, and in need of far more understanding.*Note: I'm not a big fan of Steed and Tara, for a multitude of reasons, but felt it important to explore this relationship a little bit.





	

“I’m hurting you,” said Steed.

“No, don’t stop,” she said, but the voice was strained and she was grimacing.

He gently rolled off her. It was shameful and he was ashamed. He had always prided himself in being aware of his partner’s needs and feelings, and here…he wondered if he had hurt her before and not realized it. Had he gone too quickly, not made sure she was ready? Had he gone too deep? More than two years with Emma and he’d forgotten what it meant to make love to someone else, someone different, with a different body, different experiences, different desires. He shouldn’t have forgotten, not with Tara. He knew he wasn’t her first lover, but he was close enough. She trusted him, and he had to repay that trust.

“You’re angry,” she said, and he realized that his back was to her.

“No,” he turned to face her. “I’m not angry. I’m sorry. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. But…” He took her hands. “Tara, please tell me. Please. I want to know…what you want.”

He turned the phrasing over in his mind, realizing all too late how awkward it all was. She was so young and she looked, somehow, much younger right now, her knees drawn up to her chin, peering at him with those wide, bright eyes. 

“I want you to be happy,” she replied, squeezing his fingers.

He sighed, trying to find the right words to make her understand. “Making me happy should not cause you pain,” he said. “I want you to enjoy it too.”

“I do.”

“But not this time.”

“I…” Tara shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, really, Steed. It’s all right.”

“It does matter.” He felt an unbidden anger rise in his chest, but he quelled it with a deep breath. There was nothing to be angry about. He stood up from the bed.

“I’ll bring up some wine,” he said, throwing on his dressing gown. It was more an excuse than anything, a reason to get out of the room for a moment and try to clear his thoughts. Shamefully, he still wanted her; he wanted to finish. But it wasn’t fair.

Downstairs the flat was silent and Steed didn’t bother to turn on another light. There was plenty of light from the street outside. He poured a measure of brandy for himself and regarded the amber liquid out of habit.

She’s a child. The thought came to him suddenly. A fond, loving child, who wanted to make him happy. And she did, after a fashion. But it was a happiness that made him ache because he knew, better than she did, that it wouldn’t last. She wanted him now, and that was flattering; perhaps she even loved him, but it was an unformed love, a love for an idol. She depended on him more absolutely than anyone ever had, and that moved and frightened him.

He tossed off the brandy. Not really a child, though. A young woman, beautiful, supple, strong. Her tenderness disarmed him. Eventually she’d grow up – truly grow up, and become the woman he knew she could be, even already was but for a little experience. She would be a good agent; she would cease to depend on him, if he did his job and taught her as he should. But she would leave him. That much he could depend on.

He splashed more brandy into his own glass, and filled another for her. Well, there were things he could give her, more than just his experience. He could give her his trust.

She was still in the same position in the bed when he returned, her knees drawn up under her chin.

“Here,” he said, smiling.

“No wine?”

“More fortifying.”

Tara smiled, but her eyes weren’t in it. She looked at him over the rim of the glass, apprehensive.

“You’re not angry with me, Steed?”

“Tara, why should I be angry with you?” He rested his hand on her knee, hoping that he was being reassuring. “If I’m angry with anyone, it’s with myself.”

“There’s no need.”

“Listen,” he took her free hand, pressing the soft fingers. “I’d like to try something, something that I think you’ll like. But you have to promise me that the moment I do something that scares you or hurts you or that you simply don’t enjoy, you’ll tell me to stop. And I will stop.” He emphasized the last words, certain she’d understand them. He smiled gently. “That’s an order.”

She laughed a little at that. “All right.”

He took the glass from her hand and set it on the side table. “Lie down.”

She obeyed, sliding down in the bed. The room was warm, but he saw goosepimples rise on her skin as he shed the dressing gown and laid lengthwise beside her, pulling back the covers. She relaxed when he kissed her, as gently as he could, finding some solace in the warm, willing mouth. She was different, he reminded himself.

They had done this before at least. He brought one hand to her breast, rubbing gently with the ball of his thumb until the nipple grew hard. She moved against him and his erection stirred, but this wasn’t going to be about him, not now. He slid his hand down, feeling the smooth skin, the soft roll of her stomach. He touched her outer thigh and the little downy hairs there, then brought his hand around.

“Open your legs,” he whispered, his other arm around her, reassuring her. She shifted and spread and he traced the slit, the folds, finding the soft, wet nub, and curving one finger inside of her. He released her mouth, pulling back to look at her face and seeing new pleasure there. She was wet now, fluids running over his moving hand, and she came once, a quick gasping orgasm guided by him.

Steed withdrew his hand, drawing it up her belly to rub at her breast again. As she came to him, he waited until her face was clear and conscious once more. Then he descended her body, following a line down the center of her chest, across her stomach and ribs, and down to the cleft between her legs, spreading them with great care. She tensed.

“It’s all right,” he said, gently stroking her outer thighs. “Relax.”

He kissed between her legs and she tensed again, enough to make him raise his head. “Do you not want me to go on?”

“Yes, no.” She looked down at him, a new fear dawning in her face. “Steed, I’ve never…”

“Do you trust me, Tara?”

“Of course I do.”

He kissed the soft flesh of her inner thighs. “Then trust me.”

He saw her face calm. 

He began with gentle, small kisses, waiting to see how she reacted. When he felt the muscles of her legs beginning to relax, he flicked out his tongue. She was different, she tasted different, smelled different. He should have been more attuned to her needs, should have remembered. She was writhing under him now, emitting quiet, keening moans. When his tongue brushed her clitoris she cried out and bolted upright. He pulled back, narrowly missing being trapped between her legs.

“Do you like it?” he asked, meeting her eyes. She looked very far away and very close, sweat shimmering on her chest and neck. She nodded her head and he wondered if he imagined tears in her eyes.

“Tell me if you like it, Tara. Do you want me to stop?”

“No, don’t stop. Keep going!”

He smiled at the order and pressed her knees apart, bringing her legs up so that her feet rested flat on his back.

It didn’t take long, she was already almost there, and when he started again, separating her with his fingers and moving his tongue within she began moaning. Her hands grasped at the sheets near her hips.

“Oh God. Oh God!”

He almost laughed, not at her but for her, realizing now that he should have done this before now, should not have been so selfish. Her hips rose up as he stirred her; she cried out when he sucked on her clitoris. Then he paused, bringing his fingers down to toy with her, and sucked again, moving tongue and lips. She came with a sharp sob he was beginning to recognize, and a rush of pungent liquid he was not. He held her legs as she calmed, let her rest, let her return. Then he moved up beside her, turning his face to wipe his mouth.

The eyes that looked into his were surprised and grateful, with something else flickering in them that frightened and saddened him. He put his arms around her and she rolled into him, pressing her face into his collarbone.

“Did you like it?” he said.

She nodded.

“Tara,” he continued, stroking her arm. “I want you to tell me when I do something you don’t like. We have to be honest with each other, in this as in everything.”

“I will,” she said, voice muffled. She raised her head. “Be patient with me, Steed.”

“I will.” He smiled. “As long as you’re patient with me. “


End file.
